UNCLE JAKE AND HIS CABIN [Jake Chamberlain] The Pioneer Magazine December 1903 Without doubt, the oldest living resident of Collin County is "Uncle" Jake Chamberlain, a typical old-time Southern darkey, whose humble cabin stands about one and a half miles southeast of McKinney. Uncle Jake claims to have first seen light of day July 10th, 1798—more than 105 years ago. His venerable appearance, gray locks and bent form bear out this claim of over a century's existence. Indeed, some of the county's oldest citizens, among them Manse and Hy Wilmeth, D. L. McKinney and Jesse Shain, are positive that he has reached the century mark. He was an old negro, familiarly known as "Uncle" Jake, in their earliest boyhood days. Though bent by the weight of many years, his memory is remarkably clear, his eyesight very good and all his physical faculties are retained to a surprising degree. He was born in slavery on Holston river, in Granger County, Tennessee, three miles below the Horse Shoe Bend. He was taken by his mater, Jeremiah Chamberlain, to Lexington, MO., and sold to Joseph Fisher. The latter brought him to Texas, where the slave's ownership passed to Joe Dixon, who later sold him to Elder J. B. Wilmeth, father of Manse and Hy Wilmeth, of near McKinney, for the sum of $400. Uncle Jake married five times; two of his wives died and two were separated from him in the course of events incident to slavery times. He is the father of numerous children. He married his last wife, who still resides with him, in the early fifties; both belonged to Elder J. B. Wilmeth, whose son, Elder J. R. Wilmeth, now of Mills County, Texas, officiated. For seventy-five years Uncle Jake was a Baptist preacher, doing local ministerial work among the members of his race. He never had but one severe spell of illness, and that after being brought to Texas. Dr. Smith, father of H. Q. and C. W. Smith, the druggists, attended him. Uncle Jake owns a little piece of about 30 acres, upon which he lives. When the Pioneer Magazine representative and photographer called at his cabin, they found him at the wood pile at work. Uncle Jake's old black face never fails to beam a welcome, more cordial and eloquent than words can convey, to any white friend or stranger who may pause at his humble cabin door for a word of cheer to its occupant, who possesses the distinction of having lived in all three of the eighteenth, nineteenth and twentieth centuries.

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